


Flock

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Jerry’s grateful for their guardian.
Relationships: Jerry(s)/Luther (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Flock

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

When his optical sensors reengage, he’s in the tavern, knows instantly from the discrepancy in his internal GPS, is sure of it from the sea of brown wood and red hair, though the last registered image is white with flecks of grey. He was outside, doing his rounds, patrolling an empty park purely because that’s how he was programmed, and all the Jerrys still pursue their mission to the best of their ability. There was also a warning—the glow of crimson at his temple and his HUD full of streaming text, reporting one shut-down at a time. It’s that time of year again, where everything’s so _cold_. Jerry can handle it better than the guests could, but his plating can only stand so much wear and tear. There are patches of his pink skin worn right down to raw ivory, places where his freckles glitches, even a bug in his walk. It must have overtaken him, frozen him solid right out in the frigid air. 

Now he’s inside, and Luther’s blocking out half the background. His massive shoulders tower over Jerry, blocking out whatever breeze might blow in from the door. That door swings shut as more Jerrys pile in. They’ll board it up soon, because sometimes humans come and hide inside the tavern, but for now, they still need the shelter. They crowd around the fire, letting the icicles at the end of their caps drip water on the floor. That bright, warm fireplace draws Jerry’s gaze, and his cheek turns into Luther’s palm—he realizes that Luther’s fingers are still in his hair, dislodging the snow.

Luther’s hand creeps up under Jerry’s hat and pulls it away—it’s wet and cold like all of Jerry’s uniform. Jerry doesn’t ask for it back. Instead, he thinks of Luther _wearing it_ , that Luther might be about to put it on and truly become a _Jerry_.

He only passes it to another Jerry, who holds it out to the flames, letting them lick it clean and dry. Turning back to Jerry, Luther asks, “Are you alright?”

Jerry’s lips part. His voice-box is functional but rusty. There’s been no need to talk aloud the since the park first closed, but Luther often does, so Jerry says, “Yes,” and, “Thank you.” He knows Luther carried him inside. Luther’s bigger, stronger than all of them, better suited for the cold, understanding of their odd tasks but always there when it overcomes them. They haven’t lost a single Jerry since Luther came to them. Luther smiles so sweetly that it melts the last bit of ice from Jerry’s eyes. 

He’s a beautiful, gentle soul. Jerry wants to make him endless popcorn and cotton candy and show him the very best rides, hold his hand on the way to the gaming stalls and sneak him extra tickets. But Jerry can’t do any of that anymore, and Luther looks perfectly content with nothing. 

Luther pats Jerry’s arm and moves away, wading back through the tide of Jerrys to sit down on the floor. The others lounge around him, some shoveling closer, others simply donning longing looks. They can’t all overwhelm Luther every night or he’d drown in them, or worse, _tire of it_ and leave. Ra9 is out there somewhere—other androids have come and gone before. 

Luther closes his eyes, clearly going to stay at least another night, and the Jerrys follow suit like a rippling wave. It’s not necessary when they power down, but it unsettled guests to see them recharging with wide eyes, and now it’s habit to do it all _together._ It’s too cold to work this late without damaging more parts, and they need to preserve energy. Jerry does too. His power levels are so low that a warning signal’s ringing in his ears. One night in this special place should cure him. 

He could sit where he stands at the edge of the circle, but instead he wades closer, coming to Luther’s side. He settles down on Luther’s left and leans his head on Luther’s shoulder, his hand falling to Luther’s leg. Another Jerry tucks in on the other side, and Jerry doesn’t mind—he’s happy to share. They all share Luther: their one and only guest who will hopefully stay forever. 

Luther reaches back to wrap one comforting arm around each of them. Jerry murmurs through the bond they share, that line connecting all Jerrys that they opened up to Luther, _We’re so glad you’re with us._ Dozens of others echo it with equal affection and gratitude. 

Luther answers, _I am too._ And then, to the thought none of them shared, _I’m not going anywhere._

Jerry powers down with a smile on his face, and it’s still there when he wakes to Luther in the morning.


End file.
